The Wedding Date Disaster (Harbor City 4)

Gabe put on the oven mitts, picked up the casserole dish, and started toward the door. “We better get out there.”

By the time Hadley made it outside with the tray of peanut-butter-and-honey-filled celery sticks, everyone was already seated at the picnic tables. And because the fates were against her, every seat was taken except for one—the empty spot right by Will and across from Matt.

She set down the tray on the table and squeezed in next to Will, the brush of her hip against his when she sat down sending a teasing little buzz of attraction across her skin. Her brain was a hard no, but the rest of her? Oh God, the rest of her was softening like butter in July. And for the first time ever, the Frito pie tasted like shredded paper because every sense in her body was tuned in to the man sitting next to her.

And just when she thought it couldn’t get worse, PawPaw stood up and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

Hadley’s stomach sank, and it took everything she had not to holler out “no.”

“I had brought these for Derek and Adalyn,” PawPaw said.

Maybe her sister had given her fiancé a heads-up. What PawPaw had planned was best avoided at all costs.

“However, after a discussion with Louise,” he went on, “we think we came up with the perfect alternative for the family tradition.”

Unease creeped across her skin, and Hadley’s stomach sank. It took everything she had not to slide under the picnic table and hide.

Her grandpa beamed at her. “Will and Hadley, these are for you.”

Oh God, kill me now.

…

Dinner had just moved into creepy no-one-can-hear-you-scream-out-here territory. Will might have made a break for it, but he was hemmed in on the bench by Weston on one side and Hadley on the other.

“Oh my God,” Hadley grumbled under her breath. “Why is my entire family so embarrassing?”

Will leaned closer to her and lowered his voice. “Embarrassing or homicidal?”

She shot him a side-eye glare, then turned her attention back to her grandpa. “PawPaw, it doesn’t work like that.”

“Like what?” Will asked, wondering which direction he needed to go running to get to the highway and if he could manage a decent pace in these damn cowboy boots.

PawPaw shrugged, his grin amiable. “Sometimes you have to improvise, Trigger. This is the only way to kick off a game-night Ironman.”

“Who made up that rule?” Hadley asked as she looked around at the rest of her family who were eating their Frito pie and—going by their amused expressions and unabashed gawking—obviously enjoying the free floor show.

PawPaw grinned, playing his part like he’d been born for it. “I did.”

Will’s palms were getting sweaty, and even though he knew it probably wasn’t bad in the family-of-serial-killers kind of way, still he had no clue what in the world was going on. “Can someone please explain to me what this is about?”

“It’s the couple’s riddle,” PawPaw said, as if that explained everything. “Now, hold out your arm.”

Everyone except for Hadley had their gaze glued to Will, pinning him to the hardwood bench of the picnic table. Stephanie and Gabe had that adoring look parents in the movies had when their kid went to prom. Adalyn was smiling at them, but her lips were pressed so tight together, they were lined in white. Knox, Weston, Aunt Louise, and the cousins were all staring at him with the glee of someone in one of the popcorn-eating gifs.

“Not sure I want to do that.” Translation, there was no way in hell he was going to do that.

“It’s nothing bad, just…well, my family.” Hadley sighed and held out her arm toward her grandpa. “Go ahead and do it.”

There was no way this was a good idea, but if she was willing to go with it, he wasn’t going to chicken out. Pushing aside his misgivings, Will held out his arm so it was next to Hadley’s. PawPaw didn’t waste any time, snapping the handcuffs closed around their wrists.

“And we have our official couple to solve the riddle. I hope it goes better for you than it did when Hadley and Adalyn had to solve their riddle,” PawPaw said, shaking his head. “It took them three hours.”

Hadley let out a laughing gasp. “We were twelve.”

“It was what was black and white and read all over,” PawPaw said.

“PawPaw,” Adalyn said with a chuckle. “We read news apps, not newspapers, and back then we didn’t even do that.”